


Nightmare

by key_equals_lock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Gen, Hunting, Pre-Series, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-03-15 12:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13613244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/key_equals_lock/pseuds/key_equals_lock
Summary: Ever since Sam came to Stanford, his life had been normal. And he liked it. One day, something starts killing people at random, without leaving any evidence. Sam swore he was done hunting, but will he be able to watch as innocent people die?





	1. Chapter 1

**I**

 

Sam enjoyed his life. He really did. His very normal life. He had known for a long time that hunting wasn't what he wanted to do. It wasn’t him. It was his father, and it was his brother, but Sam wanted his life to be more than just an endless road trip.

And now it was. He was a student at Stanford. He was going to become a lawyer. He was building a life for himself. A life that didn't involve credit card fraud or crappy motel rooms.  
But he knew the past would never stop haunting him. It was those little things. Like the salt on the table. Sam was convinced he would never be able to see salt as just… salt.

Then there were all these habits he had. He was raised to be on guard. Always. Always looking behind his back. Always on his toes. Always ready.

He wished he could be able to let his guard down. He wanted to be free of worries. He wanted to believe he was safe. He wanted to let his guard down. But he couldn't. He wondered if he ever would be able to.

This particular morning, Sam caught himself looking. Searching. It was the newspaper. He had unconsciously been looking for cases. It was another old habit. He had been reading it, as any other person would. Then he had stopped reading and begun _searching_. He went through the paper without really paying attention to what he was reading, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

As soon as he discovered what he was doing, he stopped. He put the newspaper down and picked up his coffee instead. He took another sip and looked at the newspaper. It was the yesterday's edition of Stanford Daily, a student-run paper at the University. The date was written just above the main headline on the front page.

Just then, Tom, his roommate, entered the common room. He sat down next to Sam and picked up the paper Sam had just put down. With the newspaper still in his hand, he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Anything interesting?” Tom asked as he sat down.

“Didn't read it,” Sam lied.

Tom didn't say anything, but started reading. They drank their coffee in silence.

Sam had met Tom when he first got to Stanford. They were both pre-law, and had been assigned to the same on-campus student housing when they first got here. They got along well, and it didn’t take long before they became friends.

After finishing at home, Sam and Tom went to the school together. They took the bus to school, the Marguerite Shuttle. Tom got off the bus earlier than Sam did, as he had classes on another part of campus.

By the time Sam also got off, he had already forgotten about the incident with the newspaper the same morning. In fact, nothing indicated that today would be anything other than ordinary. However, when he got inside the classroom, it didn't take long before he realised that this day was going to be anything but normal.

He had sat down in the back of the room, behind a group of other students. He knew most of them by name. They had had this class together for almost a year, after all. It was still about ten minutes until the class started, so they were talking together, waiting for the professor.

Sam didn’t really pay attention to what they were talking about until Johnson joined the conversation. “Did you hear about the murder?” he asked.

“No, what murder?” McCarthy said. She looked at Johnson with big eyes.

“What happened?” Kinsley asked.

“It was terrible. Choked in his sleep,” Johnson said.

“How awful.”

“Yeah. But the strange thing is that there were no signs of someone braking in. The killer left no evidence.”

Felton sat down next to Johnson and entered the conversation. “Are you talking about the murder?”

“Yeah.”

“Awful, really. He was a professor here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he taught American History,” Willis said. She looked sad. “One of the best teachers I've ever had. He was always so sweet; I don't understand how anyone would ever want to hurt him.”

“I had History with him as well. Can't believe he's gone.”

Sam listened to the conversation, and his eyes grew bigger and bigger. No way. It couldn’t be. Could it? Brutal murder on likeable guy. No evidence. No breaking and entering. Could it be…?

No, no, no. There he went again, assuming the worst. Just because the signs where there, didn’t mean it had to be something supernatural. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation to all of this. One that didn’t involve magic, monsters or other supernatural beings.

That was what Sam told himself. He hated to admit it, but deep down, he knew there were something more going on around here.

\--

“Did you hear about Professor Morris?” Tom said with a sad expression when they met up after school.

“Yeah. Tragic,” Sam replied uncomfortably.

Dammit, was the dead professor everything they talked about? Sam wished they hadn’t talked about him at all. It only brought forth unpleasant memories of his time before Stanford. Well, not really memories; it was more of a feeling. The same feeling that told him that there was something off about Morris' death. That sixth sense developed after years of hunting the supernatural.

“Yes,” Tom said sad. “He thought my English class. When I entered his class room today, I half-expected him to be there, lecturing us about how we're always a minute late.” A wistful smile appeared on his face.

Sam felt a stick of guilt. He had been so caught up in his own feelings that he'd almost forgotten that people knew this guy, and probably felt bad for him. He looked at Tom, and it was obvious that he was genuinely sad, not just “Oh, a teacher I walked past in the hallway maybe once or twice died, how sad!” sad.

“I'm sorry, he sounded like a great guy,” Sam said.

“Yeah, he was,” Tom said.

They didn’t talk more about it. Even if he felt a little bit guilty, Sam was glad they didn’t.

\--

“Fuck,” Tom said when he picked up the newspaper a few days later. It was one of the local papers. He opened it on the second page, where the main article was.

“What?” Sam said curious.

Tom sighed before replying: “There has been another murder.”

“What?” Sam said again, this time less like a question and more just to express his shock. Two murders, only three days apart! It couldn’t be a coincidence. “What does it say?” he asked, nodding at the paper.

Some other students joined them to hear what was going on.

“It was a woman this time. Sonia Mendez. She was choked, just like Professor Morris. Husband didn’t even notice until he woke up the next day,” Tom said, skimming through the article.

Sam grabbed the paper. Woman, 30 years old. Choked. Signs of a struggle.

Another student grabbed the paper and started reading out loud.

_“Last night, Sonia Mendez (30) was brutally murdered in her own home. Her husband Federico Mendez (29) found Mrs. Mendez in their bed this morning. Mr. Mendez was taken in for questioning, but the police would not say if he was being charged for his wife's murder.  
Marcus Jackson form Santa Clara Police Department confirmed that Mrs. Mendez was choked to death, but would not reveal if they had found any connection between Mendez' and Harry Morris' death.”_

It didn’t seem to be any pattern. The victims were not the same gender, nor the same age, and they didn’t know each other. Other than the MO, there didn’t seem to be anything that could connect the two murders. The police hadn’t found any connection between the victims, and if they thought the murders were committed by the same killer, they didn’t tell.

Sam zoned out. No signs of a forced entry. Killed at night. Choked. Did the description fit any of the monsters he had hunted in the past? Or maybe something he'd read about…?

Sam excused himself and went back to his and Tom's room. They shared an old 1998 computer they bought used a year ago. He logged in and went to the search engine. What creature did not have a specific type of victim, killed only by night and did so by choking the victims?

It was hard to find useful information on the internet, and even harder to find reliable sources. He knew that it would be a lot easier to just go to the library.

After a while going through every reliable source of information he knew of, he came up with nothing. Sure, some of creatures could fit the description, but he had no way of telling which one it might be. He didn’t know nearly enough about the crime scene and the victims. If he could just…

No. He was done. He was done hunting. He was not doing this.

Sam deleted the search history and logged out.

When Sam woke up the next day, a Friday morning, he didn’t think about the murders or potential monsters, because he had managed to convince himself that there weren't any monsters. Of course there wasn’t. His behaviour the previous day had simply been an outburst of paranoia. Sam knew that it was common for hunters to developed paranoia – seeing monsters everywhere – after years of hunting.

The fact that the killer hadn’t left any sign of breaking in, didn’t mean they hadn’t broken in. It was possible to break in without leaving any traces, by picking the lock for instance. He of all people should know that.

The fact that both murders had been committed at night, and that they were both choked, didn’t mean that there were any supernatural connections between them. Many murders were committed by night, and many killers choked their victims. There were nothing indicating that this was anything else than a normal murder committed by a person.

Yep. That was it. It made perfect sense. Just a perfectly normal murder committed by a perfectly normal human being.

Sam ignored his inner voice laughing at him.

\--

It wasn’t until the third murder occurred that he finally did something about it. Three days later, four days after the second murder, another body dropped.

Sam cursed when he saw the headline on the newspaper. “Stanford Serial Killer Strikes Again” it read. The story made it to front page, of course. A murder was a big deal, and a serial killer even bigger of a deal. Santa Clara County hadn’t had a serial killer in over 30 years.

This time it was just a kid, a twelve-years-old girl. She as well had been killed at night and with no signs of a breaking and entering, and just like the other two murders, she was choked to death. The police hadn’t released any other details about the murder.

The police had stated that they now believed the murders to have been committed by the same person. They didn’t tell what made them change their mind. Sam presumed that it was the similar way the victims were killed. Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is a pattern.

Nevertheless, Sam was certain. Yes, he agreed with the police: it was the same killer. He just didn’t believe it to be a person. No signs of a forced entrance. No connection between the murders. No other pattern. It had to be something supernatural. He was certain.

But what was he going to do about it?

He could call Bobby and see if there were any hunters in the area who could take the case. For a minute, he thought about calling Dean. But he quickly decided against it. If he told Dean, Dean would tell John. Sam didn’t want that.

Then what else? Doing nothing wasn’t an option. He could call Bobby. But if it turned out that there weren’t any hunters in the area, what would he do then? More people could die before another hunter got here. He couldn’t risk it.

It took Sam some time to realise that he was out of options. Or maybe he just needed some time accepting that there was only one option left.

To do it himself.

 _No._ His mind instantly rejected the idea. No more. He was done hunting. He swore that he was done hunting.

But it was the only option.

No, no, no. He closed his eyes. He would find another way.

When he opened his eyes again, the young girl from the paper looked up at him with a bright smile. Twelve years old.

Sam made his decision. One more. One last hunt, and then he was done. One more. One last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot of reaseach for this, to get my facts right. There's actually something called the Marguerite Shuttle and a student-run paper called the Stanford Daily. However, I don't actually know what it's like to go to Stanford, so I'm taking some artistic liberties.
> 
> Hope you liked the story so far! Feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you think :D


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

 

 

The next day, Sam and Tom took the bus to school together, as usual. This time, Sam was the first of the two to leave the bus. Tom asked about it, and Sam simply said that he had to go to the library. Which was true.

The Stanford University Libraries encompasses more than 20 libraries, and are on of the largest academic library systems. They hold a collection of nearly 9 million volumes and 260,000 rare or special books.

Cecil H. Green Library is the University’s main library. It is located in the heart of the campus, just by the Hoover Tower. That's where Sam was headed. He had no idea if they even had books on the supernatural, but as the largest of all the libraries, he thought the Green Library was his best bet.

Sam went through the sections, looking for anything related to the paranormal. He had been there a few times before, but he hadn’t had much use of the books in this department – he usually used the Robert Crown Law Library – so he wasn’t all that familiar with this library. But he knew how to navigate in a library, of course. He would be fine.

He had just finished skimming through the titles on his first section when a librarian approached him. “Can I help you with anything?” she asked. It was a middle-aged woman named Hadia, according to the name tag.

Sam hesitated. It would have been helpful if he could find out where he should start looking. But he didn’t want to tell the librarian what he was looking for. A part of him thought, _what harm could it do? I don’t know her, she doesn’t know me. She would probably believe I am working on a school project anyway._ The other part of him told him _no, Sam, don’t to it. It's not worth the risk. What do you need his help for, anyway? You've spent half you’re life at the library. You've done this a million times before._

“No, I think I'll be fine. But thanks anyway,” he said after a while.

The librarian, Hadia, smiled. “Okay. I'll be around if you change your mind.”

Sam nodded and sent her a quick smile before turning around, facing all the bookshelves. Yeah, he would be fine.

Or so he thought. Turned out, finding the type of books he was looking for wasn’t all that easy. The books in the Green Library was, as in every other library, sorted by subject, as well as in alphabetical order by the name of the author. There wasn’t any sections or shelves that were marked as “Supernatural creatures”, “Myths and legends” or “Folklore”, though. In Sam's experience, there rarely was.

But the good thing about it was that he didn’t have to go through every part of the library to find what he was looking for. He could filter out some of it. For an example: he wouldn’t spent too much time by the science, music and psychology sections. Instead he tried the literature collection. He often found books on the supernatural hidden between other books in those kinds of sections.

The hard part usually was finding books that was legit. Most of the books on the supernatural were just crap that didn’t have anything to do with the real world. A lot of the books on folklore were often the real deal, but those were hard to find. Sam also suspected that many of those books were already in other hunters' possession.

Sam put his finger on the shelf and scanned it. And found nothing. There where literally zero books in this section containing any information on the supernatural.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

Sam looked up at the person standing in front of him, almost confused. He had been buried so deep in the books that being dragged back to the real world left him a little disorientated.

It was the librarian from earlier. “I'm good,” Sam replied.

“You sure? You've been standing in this section for almost an hour,” she said with her eyebrow raised.

“Really?” Sam said surprised. “I didn’t realise.”

“You sure you don’t need help?”

Sam looked at the books in front of him. How many titles had he gone through? Tons. And how many of them had actually given him anything useful? Zero.  
He looked up at Hadia again. “I think I'd like some help.”

The librarian smiled. “What are you looking for?” she asked.

Sam thought about it. How much was he going to reveal? He had to be careful. Everyone had heard about the murders, and he didn’t want to say anything that could be linked to them. In the end, he decided that he would not say anything specific and just keep it general.

“I'm looking for books on folklore,” he said. He hesitated a moment before adding: “Monster mythology.”

“Oh? I don't get many requests like that,” Hadia said, a little taken aback. But she smiled. “Let's see what we can find.” Hadia started walking, taking Sam further into the library. “Are you looking for a specific kid of mythology? Greek? Norse? American?” she asked as they walked.

“Not really. Anything on mythical creatures is fine,” Sam replied.

“Can I ask why you need information about monsters?”

Sam almost said “school project”, before he remember that Stanford didn’t have a mythology or folklore program. As younger, that was always the excuse he used. He never stayed long enough for anyone to find out about the lie anyway.

Instead, he said: “Just something I'm working on. I’m very interested in folklore.”

“You don’t say,” Hadia smiled.

The librarian guided him though the library, among all the bookshelves. They walked past social science, psychology, French studies, Humanity and Sociology, as well as numerous other subjects.

In the end, they stopped in the History section. Hadia walked slowly between the bookshelves, her eyes scanning the titles for whatever she was looking for. After a while, she stopped in front of a shelf, picking out a book.

“I think this is what you are looking for,” Hadia said and gave him the book. _American Legends Through the Centuries_ , it read. She continued: “It's about myths and legends in America from the 1500s and up until today, where they origins from and how they've changes over the years.” Hadia made a gestured towards the shelf and added: “We don't have many books on mythology, but in the history section, this is where they're located.”

They moved on, and Hadia brought him to the African studies section. “We also have books about folklore in the African studies, the South Asian studies, and the Germanic studies, I think,” she said. This time, she didn’t stop to pick out a book. Instead, she walked over to a man about her age.

“Harry, could you show...” She looked at Sam.

“Sam,” he said.

Hadia continued with a smile: “Could you take Sam to through the African studies section? He's looking for books on folklore.”

Harry looked at Sam with his eyebrows raised. “Folklore?”

Sam gave him a quick strained smile, very uncomfortable with the situation. Harry scowled. His face made him look annoyed. Maybe he was, but when he answered, his voice was gentle: “Let's see what we can find. Follow me.”

“Good luck,” Hadia said with another smile. Sam wondered if she just was a generally happy person, or if it was part of the job description.

Sam followed the new librarian back to the African studies section. Harry went straight to one of the shelves and picked out a book. “Try this one.”

Sam looked at the title. _Myths and Legends in Africa_. “Wow, this is just what I'm looking for,” he said. “Thanks.”

“I sure hope so, because that's the only one we got in this section,” the librarian said. “If you want more, you can go to the History section, or the European studies. You'll probably find more there.” The grey-haired man pointed to the left.

“Thanks a lot,” Sam said, before turning around, heading for the European studies section.

Turned out the person who specialized in European studies wasn’t at the library that day. Which made Sam's job a little more complicated. He actually had to go through all the titles and find those few hidden ones. And that could take some time. But even though he was a little bit annoyed, it was kind of relaxing to just skim through the titles. Familiar.

Sam remembered when he was younger, when Dean and Dad sent him to the library, while they went to the crime scene. He'd been to so many libraries, both big ones and small ones. Some libraries sorted out the books on the supernatural. Some libraries didn't. It made his job a lot easier when they actually sorted the books, but he often had to go through the entire library to find the exact kind of book he was looking for.

Libraries in general was familiar. Safe. It was where he went to work on lore, but it also was a safe-space, for times when he just needed to get away from everything.

With years of practise, it didn’t take Sam too long to find the books he was looking for. He had picked out two titles that seemed legit: _Germanic Legends: the Origin_ and _Superstition in East-Europe._

Sam decided that he could read the books he already had collected first, and if he didn’t find anything useful, he could just head back and look for some more. So he brought the books with him, and went to the reading area.

He decided to begin with the American folklore. After all, they were in America, and Sam felt that the creature was more likely to be American than European.  
Most of the lore in the book turned out to be legit. He finished the book quickly, but it wasn’t all that helpful. Sam already knew about most of the creatures that was addressed in the book. Some of them, he had read about before, and some of them he had encountered in real life. None of them matched the description of the creature he was currently hunting.

The book looking into Germanic myths and legends was interesting, but he couldn't find anything that fit all the criteria of the creature he was looking for. The book called _African Myths and Legends_ couldn’t possibly be legit. There was no way. It was about ghost that behaved completely out of character, and some kind of blood-sucking creature that could be driven away with dancing and chanting.

After skimming through all the books the librarians had given him, as well as those he had picked out himself, he went back to the shelves to find some more reading material. He was determined to find out what creature he was dealing with before the library closed.

He must have been there for hours when a friendly librarian came up to him. “Excuse me, we will be closing soon. I just wanted to let you know, so if you want to borrow any of those books, you should hurry before we close.”

Sam looked up. Was it 5 o’clock already? Had he been there that long? Damn it. He had forgotten all about the time.

“Yes, thank you,” he said to the librarian, before he hurried over to the reception to borrow the books he didn’t get the chance to read.

The person behind the reception turned out to be the grumpy old man from the European studies. “You?” he said surprised. “Aren’t you the one who searched for books on folklore?”

Sam nodded and gave him the book.

“Have you been here all this time? That’s 7 hours.”

Yes, Sam was aware. It wasn’t unusual for him to get lost in time when he was at the library, but seven hours was a long time, even for him. He would have to get some food. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“Well, there you go,” the librarian muttered, and handed the books back to Sam.

“Thank you,” he muttered, and hurried out of the library.


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

  


It killed only by night. It probably didn’t need to use the door, so it was possible that it could manifest in a room like a ghost. (He had ruled out ghost already, because of the lack of connection between the victims and the spread locations of the murders.) And last but not least, it choked its victims.

He really didn’t have much to go on.

Sam couldn’t remember hunting, or even reading about, anything that fit this description. It could be anything, really. Every monster has its own characteristics. Something that helped you pinpoint exactly what you were dealing with. The werewolves take heats. Shapeshifters have glowing yellow eyes. Demons leave traces of sulphur.

This creature didn’t have any useful characteristic. At least not as he knew of. All he knew about it was what he had read in the paper. He needed more to go on.

It wasn’t unusual that the journalists left out vital information. Then again, their definition and Sam’s definition of “vital information” was two very different things. They probably didn’t even notice most of what Sam would consider important aspects of a case.

So instead of spending more time at the library, he decided to visit the crime scenes. Maybe he would see something that could give him an idea of what he was dealing with.

It was a Wedensday morning, which was very inconvenient. He wanted to go when it was still light outside, and preferably as soon as possible. He would have to skip school today. Which also meant that he needed an excuse not to go.

As if on cue, Tom showed up in the common room. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

 _Come on, Sam,_ he thought, _you need a good excuse._ Lying wasn’t anything new to him. He had been lying all his life about most of what happened in it. But that didn’t make it any easier. Sam never liked having to lie for a living. Which was one of the reasons why he had stopped hunting; so he wouldn’t end up in situations that forced him to lie to his friends and the people around him.

“I’m not feeling well. I think its best if I stay home today,” he said after a while. _Really, Sam? That’s the best you can do?_

Tom seemed to buy it, though. He looked worried at Sam. “Yeah, you’ve been kind of distracted lately.”

Sam played along and nodded.

“It's probably a good idea to stay home,” Tom continued. “See you after school then. Hope you get better.”

Sam waited some time to make sure Tom was out of sight before he left the dorm. But when he was about to close door behind him, he paused. He looked back in the direction of his room. Maybe he should…

For a moment, he froze, unsure what to do. In the end, Sam went back inside. He went to his room and pulled out the nightstand drawer. In it, behind a couple of books, painkillers, a few pens, a broken phone and some other stuff, a .45 was hidden in a piece of cloth.

Sam hesitated. Was he really going to do this? Was he going to take a gun with him? Then it would be no going back. He stared down at the black metal.

Sam grabbed the gun. It felt familiar in his hands, and it made Sam shudder. He stuck the barrel in the waistband of his pants behind his back, so the gun was hidden under his jacket. Then he hurried out of the room.

The most resent crime scene was half an hour's walk away, so Sam decided to take the bus. He had to walk the last part of the way though, seeing as the bus didn’t stop by the house. When he got there, the place was crowded with people. The police were there, as well as a bunch of reporters and a film crew sent by the local news channel. Sam approached the scene.

The familiar yellow barricade tape separated the reporters and the crime scene. On the other side of the tape, he could see a woman with a CSI jacket as well as a few police officers. The reporters were almost screaming at the investigators to get something they could use for their story.

Clearly, he wouldn’t get much out of this scene. There were too many people here, and he had no way of getting to the actual crime scene. Now he understood the significance of all of his father’s fake IDs.

Sam never liked how his father, and even his brother sometimes, lied and deceived people by pretending to be someone they weren’t. He knew that it was to save lives, but to Sam it just felt wrong. People told them secrets and really personal stuff, believing them to be Police, the FBI or a catholic priest. And it was all a lie.

However, he understood why it had to be done. It was the fastest and easiest way to obtain information, and when you are hunting a monster that might kill any minute, “fast” is the key word.

There were only two things stopping him from doing it now. One: he was only 20, and people would probably not believe him if he said he was police or FBI or some other profession that could get him useful information. Two: he lived here. He couldn’t risk being recognised, even though it was highly unlikely. Most people who knew him were people at the University, and they were most likely at school right now.

So he would have to find other ways to get the information he needed.

He ended up going to the first crime scene: Professor Morris’ house. He lived off-campus, so it was unlikely that someone would recognise him. The barricade tape was still there, but there were no people. Sam assumed that they had to focus their resources on the last crime scene. He looked around to see if anyone was watching, and when he didn’t see anyone, he lifted up the yellow tape and entered the property.

Morris’ house was old, but it looked nice. A lot nicer than many of the other houses in the neighbourhood. The house was recently painted, and the grass recently cut, which was more than what could be said about the other houses in this street.

Sam hurried over the lawn. He tried the front door, but wasn’t surprised to find it locked. He didn’t have his lock-picking tools—he left those behind along with his old life—so he went around the house to see if he could find another way to get in. Getting a hold of the necessary equipment to pick the lock wouldn’t be that hard. Sam was good at lock-picking, so he wouldn’t need fancy equipment, but he would rather not have to go back to find something he could use.

Luckily, some of the windows were open, probably to vent out the smell of dead body. The windows were probably as old as the house, and they weren’t very secure. He could easily open it from the outside.

Sam climbed inside, and found himself standing in something that had to be the house’s living room. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, so he moved on. The next room he went to was the bedroom, where Morris had been found.

The body was gone, of course, but other than that, the crime scene was intact. The murder was only a week ago. It was probably too soon for the family to come back here.

It wasn’t much of a crime scene, though. There was nothing indicating that this was anything other than a normal bedroom. Since Morris was choked, there were no traces of blood. The blanket had ended up on the floor, but he couldn’t see any signs of a struggle.

Sam looked around the room, searching for anything out of the ordinary. His eyes landed on a rock on the wall, hanging there like a picture. On the rock, there was a Chinese character, 獏, and a picture of some kind of creature. It looked like a bear, but it had a trunk and the tail of a cow. Sam studied the picture. It was monster. Could it be the monster he was looking for? He doubted it—it was too easy. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.

First, he had to find out what that character meant. If the picture was that of a real monster, it was likely that the character was the name of it. At least he hoped it was. It looked Chinese, but Sam was nowhere near an expert, so he wasn’t sure.

He found a pen on the nightstand, and tore a page out of a magazine. Then he wrote the character down.

When he was done, Sam went on to examine the rest of the house. He searched every room, but couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. No cold-spots, no hidden hex bags, no mysterious signs on the floor or any of the walls, no sulphur, nothing that could indicate that this was anything but a normal murder committed by a human being. Bitterly, he left the house, same way he entered.

Not much closer to finding who did this than he had been 20 minutes earlier, Sam decided to head for the second crime scene, hoping it could give him some new insight.

Sonia Mendez lived in a nicer neighbourhood than Professor Morris. Not that it mattered. He had already established that the creature he was hunting didn’t have a type.

Sam approached the house, but stopped when he could see activity inside. He noticed that the crime scene tape was gone, and that the light was on. It was probably the husband. Sam was surprised that he still lived there, considering what happened to his wife in that very house. If he ever moved in with someone, and that someone died, he would never been able to live in the same house again.

Sam decided to move on; he couldn’t go inside when Mr. Mendez was there. But it didn’t matter. The crime scene tape was gone, which probably meant the crime scene was cleaned out, and all of the evidence removed. He probably wouldn’t have found anything anyway.

When he was halfway home, Sam passed the third crime scene again. There was still a lot of people there, but two hours had passed since last time he was there, and the crowd had shrunk. He assumed that the reporters had gotten what they needed.

He really wanted to check out the crime scene, but most of all, he wanted to know about the body. The only thing the police had revealed about the way the victims were killed was that they had been choked to death. Sam needed more to go on. Had they been strangled? Did the killer uses its hands (if it had any), or did it use other tools? Maybe it hadn’t used either, and had used magic. Maybe that was why the police wouldn’t give any details, because there wasn’t any.

Sam didn’t hang around for long. He knew he wouldn’t get any more information about the last murder until the paper came out tomorrow. Instead he went home, to see if he could get closer to find out what kind of creature he was dealing with.

\--

Turned out that he didn’t find anything that might have been helpful. He was unable to find out what the Chinese character meant. He couldn’t find anything on the internet that could bring him any closer to finding out the name of the creature in the picture on the rock meant. He hadn’t found anything at all on the internet that could help him find out what the hell he was hunting. The day he spent at the library had been a waste of time. The books he had brought home with him was a no-go. Nothing he came across matched the description of it, and if it did, there were to many characteristics that didn’t fit.

He got nothing. He had  _nothing_ . What he had was three or four days, give or take, until another body dropped. What the hell was he going to do?

In the end, he decided that he had to go to the library again. The internet did him no good, and he had already decided that he wouldn’t call any in the hunter community. He didn’t have any books himself. The books he did have, he'd left behind when he left Dean and his dad.

“Hey, Sam,” a voice suddenly called out, interrupting his thinking. Sam looked up, and saw Tom entering their shared room.

“Hey,” Sam smiled.

“Feeling a little better?” Tom asked as he closed the door behind him.

“Yeah. I think I'm going to go to school tomorrow,” he replied.

“That's good,” Tom said as he dropped his bag by his bed.

Sam wasn’t going back to the Green Library, though. He was pretty sure he had read every book there was on the supernatural in that library. No, he was going to the Special Collection & University Archives. That’s where the Rare Books section was located. He was bound to find something useful there. Unfortunately, you had to request materials two days in advance.

Sam looked at the clock on the wall. It was 3:30. That meant one and a half hour until the library closed. If he went out now, he would be there in time to page some books.

“I’m actually feeling a lot better, I think I will go to the library and catch up on what I missed today,” Sam said.

Tom looked worried at him. “You sure? Maybe you should stay home and rest; I’m sure you’ll be able to catch up later.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Sam grabbed his jacket. “See you later.” Then he left, heading towards the library.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

**  
**

To page a book in the Rare Books section, you had to go to the library and request it. So once more, Sam was on his way to the Green Library. The Special Collection & University Archives are located in the Bing Wing on the second floor in the same building. He’d been there only once before, seeing as he rarely had the need for these kinds of books anymore.

But first, he was going to return the books he lent yesterday. He hurried over to  counter  where you registered you loans, and put his books in one of the boxes marked “returned books”. A librarian he hadn’t seen before smiled at him. He smiled back, once again wondering if smiling was part of  the job description .

After returning his books, Sam went to the Bing Wing. He found one of the librarians working in the department. “Excuse me, I would like to page few books,” he said politely.

“Do you have your Stanford ID?” the man asked.

Sam fumbled after his wallet and found the ID-card. The librarian gave it a quick look and nodded. “Come with me,” he said. “What section?”

“Rare Books,” Sam replied.

They went to a counter, and the librarian got him an overview of the books. “There you go. And remember, we close in an hour.”

“Thanks.” Sam grabbed the book and sat down with it.

He skimmed through the titles. Occasionally, a title would catch his attention, and he would read the description of the book. Even more occasionally, he would find something that actually seemed legit, and add it to his list over books he wanted to read.

After about half an hour, he had made a complete list. It was shorter than he expected it to be. Perhaps it was for the best. It would be easier to look for the monster if he didn’t have stacks of books to read.

Sam presented his list to the librarian who proceeded to put his requests in the data system. About half way through the list, he stopped and looked at Sam. “You are aware that some of these are in Latin?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“Huh. I must say, it’s not often I get requests for books in other languages than English,” the librarian said. Sam shrugged, and the librarian continued reading through the list.

“There you go,” he said after a while. “If you stop by on Saturday, your books will be waiting for you.”

“Thank you very much,” Sam said with a smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes.

On his way back, he could feel the pit in his stomach. Two more days. What if he didn’t have two days? What if he would be too late? Sam tried not to think about it, but he wasn’t able to push the feeling away. He feared that in two days, it would be too late.

  
  


Thursday morning, Sam was determined to make the day count. He still hadn’t found anything more about the Chinese character he had found in Professor Morris’ house. That was going to change.

At Stanford, there were students from all over the country, as well as from every corner of the world. There had to be someone somewhere at the school who could translate for him. He was certain of it. The problem was finding that person.

Sam arrived the building his class in American Law was being held earlier than usual. He knew he didn’t have any foreigners in this class, but maybe someone in his class knew somebody who might know Chinese (or Japanese, or Korean, or whatever language the character written in).

After asking around a bit, he found out that no one in his class knew any Asians. Sam was a little disappointed, but he didn’t lose hope. After all, he had two more classes that day.

No Asians in his next class either, Ethics, but unlike his previous class, someone actually knew a student with Chinese background.

“I might know someone,” a young woman on the row behind him said, after having overheard Sam’s conversation with the student next to him.

“Really?” he said and turned around.

“Yeah, but I don’t know if she know the written language. She’s American, but I know she speak Chinese with her mum,” the girl said. Jennifer, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“What’s her name?” Sam asked. “Do you know where I can find her?”

“Lilly Zhang,” Jennifer replied. “You’re lucky; I actually have my next class with her. You can come with me, if you like.”

Just then, their professor arrived. Sam whispered a “that would be great” as well as a “thanks” to the girl, to which she smiled.

After the lecture, Sam and Jennifer headed over to where Jennifer’s next class was located. Luckily, it was in the same building, so they didn’t have to go far. Sam didn’t have any more lectures until 1 pm, so he had one and a half hours before his next class, which was convenient.

“What do you need Lilly’s help to, anyway?” Jennifer asked, as they walked.

Sam hesitated. As always, when hunting and/or his past was involved, he was reluctant to reply.

“It’s something I stumbled upon the other day,” he said. “It’s a Chinese character and I would like to know what it means.”

You’re pretty determined to figure it out, aren’t you? I don’t think I know anyone who would have gone as far as you, just for the sake of a simple word.”

Sam gave her one of his quick, but stained smiles. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

Jennifer chuckled. “That’s for sure.” The she asked, “What made you so interested in that particular character? Where did you come across it?”

As he saw no reason to hide it, he simply told the truth. “It was on a picture of some kind of creature. I assume that the character is the name of the animal,” Sam explained.

“I see.”

They arrived at the classroom just a moment later. Sam followed the blonde inside, and noticed that they was in one of the schools many auditoriums. “Hey, Lilly!” she called out. A black-haired girl their age turned around. “Jennifer, hello!” she said. Then she noticed Sam. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Sam,” Jennifer replied. “Actually, he’s here for you.”

Lilly looked at Sam with curiosity. “How so?”

This time, Sam replied. “Yes, I was wondering if you might help me with something.” Sam grabbed the paper on which he had drawn the character. “Do you know what this means?” he asked as he presented the drawing to her.

Lilly studied it. “Hm, I don’t think so. I’m not very good with the Chinese characters. Either way, I have never seen this character before.”

Sam felt a stick of disappointment, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he said, “That’s fine. Thank you anyway.” He was about to turn around and leave, but Lilly stopped him.

“Wait, if you like, I can ask my mother,” she said.

“That would be great!” Sam said, a bit surprised.

“If you just wait a minute, I can call her,” Lilly said, and grabbed her backpack. She found her mobile phone.

A moment later, she was talking to her mother. Sam didn’t understand a single word, naturally, but she seemed to be explaining something. That would make sense. If she had an American phone, she probably couldn’t send a text message with the character. Her phone didn’t seem to have a camera either.

She fell quiet for a while. She nodded, forgetting that her mum couldn’t actually see her. After ending the conversation, Lilly hung up and turned to Sam.

“It’s not a very common character, and it usually means “tapir”. That’s an animal. It is also possible that it’s not a Chinese character, but a kanji,” she explained.

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

“It’s the Japanese equivalent to hanzi—the Chinese characters. There are many overlaps between kanji and hanzi, and while the meaning of the character may be the same, it can have another or an additional meaning.”

“I see,” Sam said. How complicated. He couldn’t understand how people who knew Chinese and Japanese managed to remember all those difficult symbols. Let alone draw them. “Do you know anyone who might know how to translate it?”

“You could ask professor Matsuyama,” Lilly said. She paused before adding, “Why don’t you just go to the East Asia Library? I am sure you will find someone there who could help you. Or just find a dictionary.”

Sam stared at the girl.  _The East Asia Library._ _Of course._ Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier! “That’s right,” he exclaimed. He was about to disappear from the auditorium, but remembered to thank both of the women. He was a lot closer to finding out about what the character meant, and thus a lot closer to figuring out what the hell he was hunting. For that, he was thankful, and he made sure to let both Jennifer and Lilly know that.

The East Asia Library was located in Lathrop Library. It wasn’t far away, but Sam decided to take the shuttle. It was much faster than walking, and he did have a class at 1 pm he wanted to attend.

“Excuse me, could you help me with something?” he asked the first librarian he saw.

“Of course,” a middle-aged man replied.

Sam showed him the character. “I need to translate this character from Japanese.”

The man studied the character. “Hm. I have never seen this character before. Have you talked to Professor Matsuyama?”

“No,” Sam replied.

“Well, I guess you could try a dictionary. However, you should know that there are over 50 000 kanji. Admittedly, there are just about 2000 commonly used kanji, but 2000 are still very many characters,” the man explained.

Sam stared.  _Fifty thousand characters._ That’s crazy. If he had to search the entire dictionary, it would take ages. He would be stuck here for days. That was not happening. “I guess I will have to look for Professor Matsuyama, then,” Sam said, and the librarian chuckled. “Do you know where I might find her?”

“You’re lucky; she’s supposed to pick up some books here after school. She should be here around three o’clock.”

“That’s great, I’ll be there!” Sam said joyfully. That was perfect. He could go after his next lecture, which finished at 2:30. Then hopefully Matsuyama would be able to tell him what the character meant. If he was really lucky, this was the creature he was looking for. If this was it, he could even cancel his order at the Special Collection archive.

“Thank you very much,” he said to the librarian before he left the library. He had to hurry if he wanted to get to his class in time.

  


2:43, Sam was at the library. He couldn’t find the librarian who helped him earlier that day, so he found one of the other librarians working at the library. “Excuse me,” he said to a female librarian. “I was told Professor Matsuyama was going to pick up some books here today. Do you know if she's been here already?”

“Robert mentioned something about it, yes, but I can't remember seeing her,” the librarian replied.

“She's supposed to pick them up 3 pm, I think,” Sam said.

“Yeah, that's right.” She shot a glance towards the clock on the wall. “I should go and see if I can find them. If you wait here, I'm sure she will show up eventually.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, and the librarian nodded. He looked around to see if he could find a place to sit. He chose one of two chairs located close to the counter, so he could see if anyone showed up to pick up books.

Sam decided to read a few pages in his book on American Law to kill some time. Occasionally, he shot a glance in the direction of the counter to make sure he didn’t miss anything. It became more and more difficult to concentrate as the hour hand approached the number 3. Five minutes past three, Sam gave up and put the book back in his backpack.

As if on cue, a woman showed up by the counter. The female librarian picked up some books from behind and put them on the counter. The woman studied them and said something to the librarian. Sam was too far away to hear what they were talking about. He was almost certain that this was the woman he had been waiting for.

Just as the woman was about to leave, Sam go up. “Excuse me,” he called out, and the woman turned around. “Are you Professor Matsuyama?” he asked as he caught up to her.

The woman looked a bit bewildered. “Yeah, that's me,” she said. “Who's asking?”

Sam sighed in relief. Finally!

“I'm Sam Winchester,” he said and reached out his hand.

“Kaede Matsuyama,” she said as she grabbed it.

“I was wondering if I could ask you about a character I've been trying to figure out the meaning of,” Sam asked.

“Kanji?”

“Eh, it might be.” He found the paper on which he had written the character and showed it to her. Professor Matsuyama took it and studied it.

“Where did you find this?” she asked after a while.

“On a picture,” Sam replied truthfully, not bothering to be more specific. “Do you know what it means?”

Matsuyama nodded. “It's a mythical creature in Japanese folklore called “Baku”,” she said and returned the paper. “It's a spirit that feeds on dreams.”

That must be it! That was exactly what he was looking for. A mythical creature!

“Thank you so much,” he told Matsuyama.

The professor smiled. “I'm glad I could be of help,” she said, before adding, “Can I ask what's so important about the character? You seem to have put a lot of effort in having it translated.”

“Oh, it's not of any importance. It was just to satisfy my curiosity,” Sam lied. Matsuyama studied him for a moment, but seemed to accept his answer.

“Thanks, again,” Sam repeated and said goodbye. He hurried out of the library and jumped on the next shuttle back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: While I did quite some research when I wrote this chapter, I can't guarantee that all of this is correct. I'm Norwegian:P I hope I didn't offend anyone with my limited knowledge on writing systems in Asia.
> 
> That was it for this chapter. Tell me what you think :)


End file.
